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J>l J^OEM JDELIYERED AT THE /MEETING OF THE 



New Yof\k State Press Associatio 



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Oswego, June 7, 1876. 



By A u s b u rjsi Towner^. 



elmira, nsr. -y. 

ADVERTISER ASSOCIATION, PRINTERS. 

1876. 



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Digitized by the Internet Archive 
in 2011 with funding from 
The Library of Congress 



http://www.archive.org/details/smokepoemdeliverOOtown 



SMOKE. 



The hurrying months have gathered up the days, 

Filling the measure of another year, 
And meeting once again from various ways, 

You find sweet welcome with your brethren here. 
Once more united, neighbor, brother, friend, 
Congenial thoughts, companionship attend, 
Your cares or disagreements left behind, 
To all, save present gladness, you are blind. 
If clouds, harsh fate above your pathway throws, 
Here, only their bright, sunny lining shows. 
With hearts unlocked, and busy tongues unbound, 
The ancient joke and hearty laugh go round, 
The past comes up colored in brightest rays, 
Or shots prophetic are fired at future days. 

Some, since this genial conclave first was known, 
Have, year by year, to closer friendship grown, 
Have watched each other, with a kindly grace, 
Grow rich in honors, with increasing days. 

Some, their labors ended, their voices stilled, 
Their places vacant, never to be filled, 
Have fall'n asleep, touched by the Father's hand, 
To wake with new life in th' eternal land. 

Still others with this goodly throng engage 
A younger generation on life's stage, 



Who, wisely joined, with each recurring year, 
Gain, from your words, new helps in their career ; 
With eager sight, scanning what you have done, 
Push on the work, which is so well begun, 
With higher motives ever in their view, 
As yours surpass those which preceded you. 

A mighty thing is this we call the Press, 
Its frown portends disgrace ; its smile, success. 
Into its ear, with never ceasing tone, 
From nearest hamlet or from farth'rest zone, 
Is poured a record that embraces all — 
An empire risen ; almost a sparrow's fall. 
With this great engine thundering in advance, 
'Twould seem that all of Nature's ways were man's. 
That chance nor skill nor energy could give 
Aught else worth thought, save God's prerogative. 

Bethink you for a moment. See how vain 
The proudest progress made. How small the gain. 
See what a veil is that which still o'erspreads 
The unwrought path, along which mankind treads. 
Its folds mysterious, cloud a nation's way, 
And circumscribe the path of man each day. 
Deep in its midst, we say we live ! We grope 
With outstretched hands, without a guide, save Hope. 
Whatever or wherever we may be, 
We're only certain of uncertainty. 
The chiefest lesson it, that's learned by men, 
How little here, how much beyond our ken. 
It wraps with quickening haste in closest screen 
Whatever passes, everything that's been, 
As though Earth, fearful of a sure disgrace, 
Just blushed her history and concealed her face. 

Six thousand years have gathered up their strands, 
And wove the centuries with rapid hands. 
Six thousand years of that unceasing flight 
Since naught was something and darkness light, 



Yet only back a century or two, 
And rising mists obscure our anxious view, 
A moment's time of memory's caress, 
To lengthened ages of forgetfulness. 

See in our tropics, where the trade wind sways 
The purple lucerne and the fruitful maize, 
By temperate slope and on the torrid plain, 
The rotting ruins of a race remain. 
What various splendors marked that people's course ! 
What wealth of beauty ! What extent of force ! 
What flowers fair wisdom scattered in their way, 
That bloom so brilliant even in decay ; 
Imagination strays, with soul all won, 
Where glorious trod these children of the Sun, 
Peoples once more the city's large domain, 
Or fills with life the now deserted plain. 
What pages with interest gleaming all about, 
Have rolling years completely blotted out ! 
Mayhap their annals chant as proud a hymn 
As vaunted Rome can thunder — Athens sing ; 
Yet not by mortal man shall e'er be penned, 
Their unknown origin or shadowy end. 
Pale mystery hangs her hazy mantle 'there. 
An epitaph their history : — "Once they were" — 
Useless their fate, our ignorance to deplore, 
Vain all our sighs — They were — we know no more. 

And still much further, over well reaped fields 
The harvest won, of truth, small measure yields. 
Prejudice and tradition blur the page, 
And Fable swings her censer o'er the age. 
Nations Ave thought we knew, with each decade 
i^ppear in garments new and strange arrayed. 
And men, whose places in th' immortal roll 
Seemed fixed as firmly as is either pole, 
Yanish forever, save from fiction's sight, 
Or show new features in the modern light. 



Thus, Nero, cruel, murderous, and cold, 

Is found to be a very gentle soul ; 

And Borgia, with kinsmen's blood imbued, 

Is but, to say the least, misunderstood ; 

And William Tell is gone, his boy and bow 

Vanish, amid the gleam of Norway snow ; 

England's Harry, with all his Mormon mood, 

Is but wife-martyred for his country's good ; 

And Pocahontas, gentlest of Indian girls, 

In clothing scant skips off with maddest whirls. 

Alas, not men alone this probing feel, 

Or dwindle underneath the searching steel ; 

The Man of Nazareth stands before their rod, 

A modern copy of a Hindu God ! 

But why the Past invade, the Future scan, 

When Present hours, which we've no power to hold, 

Slipping like quicksilver from firm clasped hand, 
No surer or more certain things enfold ? 

What narrow belts, where everything seems clear, 
Map out our knowledge of our little sphere. 
From coasts tempestuous, where we dread to land, 
High mountains rise and continents expand. 
Majestic streams through fertile valleys glide 
Whose source unknown, mysterious regions hide. 
Here ; tropic air, all reeking ripe with death, 
Drives back th' explorer with its tainted breath. 
There ; ice-locked oceans and eternal snow 
Fix barriers stern, beyond which none may go. 

The simple rustic, trained from humble birth, 
With hoe and plow to wrestle with the earth, 
Whose mind scarce raised above the clod he digs, 
To be intent on poultry, stock and pigs, 
Whose learning sparse enables him to spell 
With up-hill groans, through tales he loves so well, 
Or whole week's work to carve, with many a sigh, 
On smooth barked tree, a name that he swears by ; 



Whose aim, when young, is sighted by desires, 

When old, controlled by what his stock requires, — 

What misty prison holds his little sense, 

And bounds him farmlike by his neighbor's fence ! 

Towards Eternity, dotted here and there 

With ships, that freight, to man's best wishes bear, 

The stream of Time forever swiftly flows. 

He heeds it not, its presence never knows. 

Thinking of naught save self, and how self fares, 

He is— 'tis all he knows— 'tis all he cares. 

The pondrous rich man, with depth of purse untold, 
In all his sleek pomposity of gold, 
His creed, much narrower than all others is, 
Runs trippingly along like unto this : 

Oh ! is n't this world a queer old world — 

Its oddities who will rehearse ? 
Brains are but little. Hearts all a farce. 

There's not much outside of a purse. 

We believe in the Purse ! Let poets sing 

Of love the whole day long ; 
You'll find this world, this practical world, 

Simply reads the poet's song. 
'T will bury its heart if the shrine's only gold, 

And even the poet's curse 
On the glittering dross will turn to a prayer 

At the sight of a plethoric purse. 

We believe in the Purse ! Let Christians teach, 

That to love it is a grievous fault — 
You'll find this world, this pious old world, 

Has a creed that would screen a vault. 
And the golden rule is the rule of gold, 

To many churchmen, and what is worse, 
Their Hell is only a moneyless hole — 

Their Heaven, a magnified purse. 



8 

We believe in the Purse ! Let the heart hold back, 

Lest its gleam may reflect a crime, 
You'll find this world, this jury of a world, 

Has a theory more sublime. 
It applies a part of a Natural law 

That governs our Universe ; 
And lo ! crime varies on a limitless scale 

Inversely as the length of the purse. 

We believe in the Purse ! Let others ask 

For glory and a noble name — 
That when they die a mourning world 

Shall re-echo with their fame. 
What a mocking wish ! We cannot see 

Though a world weep after our hearse. 
Better, far better than this, we ask, 

While we live, a great, plump purse. 

A goodly thing is gold ; with equal hands 
It cheers the widow's path and rules all iands. 
Satire has laid his brit le lance in rest, 
And seen it shattered on the yellow breast, 
Since it alone no just satire deserves, 
But he, who all its basest uses serves. 
Such, hugging close, the soul's most grievous hurt, 
Lifts not his eyes from contemplating dirt ! 
The rustic's blindness, forced by fate's decree, 
Is clear to his, who can, but will not, see. 

The wise man, learned with dextrous mind to trace 
Unaltered nature through her hidden ways, 
Who knows as readily universal laws, 
As merest atomies, or minutest cause — 
Sure, he, so high from vulgar gropings raised 
Undimmed, views all things, wheresoever placed. 
Serene surveys all secrets nature hath, 
While envious mists cloud not his onward path ! 



When westward the sun has wheeled his fiery globe, 
And night sits glorious in her starry robe — 
When midnight hours, their solemn vigils keep, 
And hush the day-time workers into sleep, 
A restless watcher's eyes, from some tall tower, 
Sweep ever o'er the skies with wondrous power ; 
Beneath their glance, what seems to unhelped eyes, 
Mere clouds, that foam-like flit across the skies, 
Break from the blue that distance makes so dense, 
And shine new worlds in clear magnificence. 
But still beyond, where simple eyes give place 
To nothingness, sweeping through eternal space, 
Where even telescopic vision stops 
Aghast ! before the veil that distance drops, 
More mists arise and fill the horizon 
And close the portals to the far beyond. 

So the wise man, whose educated glance, 
Of thoughtless ones, keeps ever in advance, 
If seeking nature's secrets to exhume, 
Or dimly lighting metaphysic's gloom, 
Beholds profusely scattered all around, 
Mysteries more dense, questions more profound 
Sums up all study, contemplates all thought, 
In every path where patient souls have wrought. 
- In that wise saying, reached by sages long ago, 
"The more we know, the more we know we cannot know." 
Toil as we may, how large or small our sphere, 
The vast unknown beyond, is very near ; 
Achieve what plane we may, by force of will, 
There's something still beyond, above us still. 

A weighty lesson, close within our reach, 
These unexaggerated numbers teach, 
Man's nature double, strives for different ends, 
That, clings to earth, and this, towards Heaven tends. 
This, spurning the clay to which it is allied, 
Eager for purer things, dissatisfied, 



10 

Restless to achieve a loftier flight, 
Where clouds do not obscure the clearer light, 
Hastens the upward steps of man's advance 
To knowledge, from the depths of ignorance, 
And keeps the conflict ever seething hot 
Between what's fully known and what is not. 

In this brave fight, whose field is everywhere, 
The Press a proud and helpful part must bear. 
You stand like beacons lit before the dawn, 
And mark with certain light how far we've gone ! 
You stamp upon the age, the time, the race, 
Its life, in lines which nothing can efface ; 
What's done, what's known, you spread so far and wide, 
Neglect can not destroy nor envy hide. 
Without you, see how all the past is black ! 
With you, the world can never more go back. 
In this struggle, with true and earnest hearts, 
God help us all to know and do our parts ! 



Pleasant Reflections. 



Major Towner's poem, elsewhere given, honors alike its author and the 
Association before which it was read. — Rochester Democrat. 



Towner, of the Elmira Advertiser, read the poem at the Editorial Conven- 
tion. It was excellent in quality, and we now know why the Advertiser is 
so excellent a paper. A good editor makes a good paper. — Middletown Argus. 



Among the many enjoyable features of the annual reunion of the New York 
State Press Association at Oswego, the other day, was a poem of rare merit 
by Major Ausburn Towner, of the Elmira Advertiser. —N. Y. Com. Adv. 



Major Ausburn Towner, or the Elmira Advertiser, gave the poem, which 
we publish this week. It entitles its author to high rank in the literary 
guild.— Ptnn Yan Chronicle. 



Major Towner, of the Elmira Advertiser, was the poet at the State Edito- 
rial Convention held at Oswego last week. His poem is a very creditable 
production, and it was handsomely delivered.— Owego Record. 



The poem to be read at the coming State Editorial Association, at Oswego, 
will be from the gifted pea of Major Ausburn Towner, city editor of the 
Elmira Advertiser, and one of the most talented young journalists in the 
State. — Troy Times. 



Major Ausburn Towner, of the Elmira Advertiser, read the annual poem. 
He is a man of refinement and culture, who plays with the Muse as a toy en- 
joyable. His production was a rare one, and received with great applause. 
Amsterdam Recorder. 



The New York State Editorial Association met at Oswego on Wednesday. 
Major Ausburn Towner, the accomplished city editor of the Elmira Adver- 
tiser, read the annual poem, which is spoken of as an effort rare in conception, 
gracefully pointed and eloquently delivered.— Pittston, Pa., Comet. 



12 

Every available seat was occupied to listen to the annual address and poem, 
the latter by Mr. Ausburn Towner, of the Elmira A dvertiser. The best 
praise we can bestow on these efforts will be to publish them at our earliest 
opportunity, which we intend to do.— Prattsburg News. 



The annual poem was by Ausburn Towner, Esq., of the Elmira Advertiser. 
It was received with hearty tokens of approbation, and was worthy of all the 
praise bestowed. We regret that we have not at piesent, space to give it to 
our readers.— Chenango Telegraph. 



One of the best things written in many a day, is the poem of Major Aus- 
burn Towner, of the Elmira Advertiser, read before the Press Association, 
at Oswego last week. We regret we have not room to give it entire. — Horse- 
heads Free Press. 



The annual poem was the work of the graceful and easy pen of Mnj. Aus- 
burn Towner, of the Elmira Advertiser. It was rich in solid thought and 
pretty sentiment, and closed with a very rhythmic invocation to the frater- 
nity.— Troy Times. 



Wednesday evening a large audience gathered at the Oswego Academy of 
Music, to listen to the annual address and poem. The poem was a complete 
success, and the poet, Major Ausburn Towner, of the Elmira Advertiser, re- 
ceived his full share of well deserved applause.— Hammondsport Herald. 



Ausburn Towner's poem, read before the recent session of the New YorK 
State Press Association, at Oswego, is a superior production. Mr. Towner 
is the very capable city editor of the Elmira Advertiser, and is destined soon 
to rank high in the literary world. Please send us an extra copy.— Mans- 
field, Pa., Advertiser. 



The last shall be first, and the first shall be last, so was it we would say of 
Ausburn Towner, Esq., of Elmira, N. Y., whose original poem, delivered in 
person, was beautiful in its conception and subject, add to which was the 
easy and graceful delivery ; made it as a whole the fitting event and closing 
epilogue of the evening. — Waverly Enterprise. 



Boston, July 1st, 1876. 
Dear Sir : I should have thanked you before this for your kindness in 
sending me your poem, and the pleasant words which came with it. I do 
thank you at last, and am glad that one so capable of pleasing others should 
have been pleased with anything of mine. 

I am, my dear sir, yours very truly, 

OLIVEE WENDELL HOLMES. 



13 

We are sorry that we have not room for the poem of Major Ausburn Tow- 
ner, a production of high merit, and which has already been extensively pub- 
lished. The poem was a masterly production, and was delivered in that cool, 
quiet, unostentatious manner, that in a " good thing," always gains the 
closest attention. — Geneva Gazette. 



Major Ausburn Towner, of the Elmira Adoertiser, delivered in a pleasing 
manner the annual poem. It is a fine production, containing many choice 
passages and fplicitous expressions, and well embodying the high aspirations 
of the journalist of to-day. The Rich Man's Creed and the Purse, introduced 
incidentally, strengthens by contrast the thought running through the poem, 
and is replete with wholesome satire.— Wa'kins Express. 



On our fourth page will be found the poem which was read before the State 
Editorial Association at Oswego, on Wednesday, by Major Ausburn Towner, 
of the Elmira Advertiser. It is deserving of a careful perusal, and sustains 
Major Towner's reputation as a gentleman of first-rate literary culture. 
Many of the gentlemen of the Association consider the poem altogether su- 
perior to any yet read before that body.— Binghamton Times. 



We make the following extracts from a lengthy poem de'ivered by our 
friend, Ausburn Towner, before the New York State Press Association at 
the Twentieth Annual Session, which took place in Oswego, June 7 and 8. 
The poem is one of the finest that has ever been delivered on such an occa- 
sion in this country, and many portions of it compare favorably in beauty 
and elegance with the best of Goldsmith's productions. -Pomeroy's Democrat. 



The State Editorial Association made a capital selection of their poet this 
year, in Mr. Ausburn Towner, city editor of the Elmira Advertiser. Mr. 
Towner has made a wide reputation as an able writer, so that the honor con- 
ferred by the state society of editors naturally fell to him. His poem, of 
course, is the very best that has yet appeared in the proceedings of this asso- 
ciation, and does great credit to our talented townsman.— The Bistoury. 



The poem of Ausburn Towner, read to the Press Association at its annual 
meeting last month in Oswego, has in it gems of rare beauty. Opening with 
a brief retrospect of the year, the author approaches his theme aglow with 
the fervor of genius which sparkles with brilliant thought to the end. How 
Major Towner can find time to elaborate thought in measured stanza and 
studied rhyme, is a mystery to those who know of his busy labors on a great 
daily paper. His poem is as fresh as the June morning on which he bore it 
to his fellow editors, none of whom can know what small fragments of time 
were worked together in the finished production which gave in the reading 
such full delight.— Husbandman. 



14 

The poem delivered at the twentieth annual meeting of the New York 
State Editorial Association, held at Oswego, June 7th and 8th, by Mr. Aus- 
burn Towner, of the Elmira Advertirer, is a very fine production, and those 
who have attended these meetings in days gone by, say it is the finest they 
have ever had. Those who have not read it should improve the first oppor- 
tunity.— The Commercial Traveler. 



The twentieth annual session of the New York Press Association was held 
in Oswego June 7th and 8th. The annual poem was written Major Ausburn 
Towner, and was probably the best one ever delivered before that associa- 
tion. Its principal fault is. as usual, its great length. Maj. Towner is city 
editor of the Elmira Advertiser, the best paper in that part of the State, and 
we were pretty certain that his poem would be equal to his prose produc- 
tions—merit enough for one occasion.— Port Jervis Gazette. 



The N. Y. State Press Association had a very pleasant annual meeting at 
Oswego, as is evident from the concurrent testimony of the editors present. 
The poem by Ausburn Towner, the city editor of the Elmira Advertiser, was 
a fine production and was much praised. But for its length we should have 
been glad to have published it. The versification is easy, the thoughts im- 
pressive, and the descriptive portion apt and interesting. It does the author 
much credit as a literary production. — Corning Journal. 



Major Towner's poem, delivered before the State Press Association at Os- 
wego last week, was a grand success— both in delivery and merit. He is cer- 
tainly adding laurels to his name in the literary world. It is complimented 
by the press everywhere, and we give it place in our columns so that our 
readers can slap their hands too. It lays over all previous efforts, and really 
places our friend's name in the catalogue with standard poets. Onward and 
upward is the motto. — Waver ly Enterprise. 



We print this week the poem of Ausburn Towner. Esq., of the Elmira 
Advertiser, read before the New York State Press Association, at its annual 
session in Oswego last week. We trust no one will fail to give it a careful 
reading. As a poem it takes rank among the best productions of the age, 
and is decidedly superior to anything heretofore read before the Association. 
Mr. Towner must at once take his place as an American Poet.— Waverly 
Advocate. 

For some reason we did not receive, until a day or two since, a copy of the 
proceedings of the recent meeting of the State Press Association, containing 
the poem by Mr. Ausburn Towner, city editor of the Elmira Advertiser, It 
is not too late, however, for the expression of a word of cordial appreciation 
of Mr. Towner's creditable performance. The production is distinguished 
for the lofty nature of its ideas and the graceful manner in which they are 
expressed, and must have been one of the most pleasant features of the liter- 
ary portion of the proceedings of the reunion.— Jamestown Democrat. 



15 

The poem read by Ausbtjrn Towner, of the Advertise}', before the State 
Press Association, at Oswego to-day, is published elsewhere in this issue. It 
will be worth careful perusal, and all who read it cannot fail to appreciate 
its merits. Major Towner enjoys a high reputat on as a gentleman of fine 
literary culture, and this poem adds new laurels of literary honor. The po- 
em is superior to any yet read before the State Press Association, and will do 
much in increasing Mr. Towner's already fine reputation. It will be eagerly 
read by the people here. — Elmira Gazette. 



We discover now and then in the periodical literature of the metropolis, 
literary productions em -nating from the pen of Mr. Ausburn Towner, city 
editor of the E mira Adoertiser. We are glad to note that Mr. Towner's 
talent as an easy, graceful writer is recognized and acknowledged abroad as 
well as at home. The descriptive letter press in the number of the Daily 
Graphic, in which Elmira was illustrated, was written by him, at the request 
of the editors of that journal, as was also a very entertainingly written 
sketch of Eldridge Park, for the CkristianWeeklp. Mr. Towner is also a fre- 
quent contributor to other periodicals, in all of which he exhibits an origin- 
ality of style that is very attractive and pleasing.— Jamestown Journal. 



Major Ausbtjrn Towner, of Elmira. read the annual poem, The Major's 
production was one of the finest to which we have ever had the pleasure of 
listening. It held the close attention of the audience throughout by its vig- 
orous thought and graceful rhythm, and was pronounced by some who were 
conversant with Editorial Conventions for many years, to be the best ever 
read before the Association. The Major is to be congratulated upon the large 
success which he achieved. We could wish the Association no better fortune 
than that it might secure for its poet at succeeding meetings, as genial a gen- 
tleman, as tine a scholar and graceful a writer as Mr. Towner. It would give 
us pleasure to publish his production in full, as we see that many of our ex- 
changes are doing, but in the crowded state of our columns this week it is im- 
possible. — Cortland Standard. 



Major Ausburn Towner, the lifted and genial city editor of the Elmira 
Daily Advertiser, delivered the annual poem before New York Press Asso- 
ciation at Oswego recently. It abounds with many rich gems of thought, 
well worthy of preservation. As we do not find ro im for it at length, a few 
choice extracts, we feel assured, will be relished by our readers. Of the veil 
which overspreads the path along which man treads, we have this beautiful 
allurion: * * * The ancient race, probably the Aztecs, once peopling this 
continent, receives this: * * * The limit to man's researches and explora- 
tions after knowledge receives this beautiful stanza : * * * This pen paint- 
ing of the unaspiring plodder will be distinctly recognized, and tells the 
whole story in a few well wrought lines : * * * The limitless beyond re- 
ceives this limning from the poet's pen, * * * We will close our extracts 
from this fine production with this, next to the closing stanza: * * * 
— Havana Journal. 



,m?***~OF 



-JT. 



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